I understand Obama’s “love” for America

Hey, all! I’m back . . . finally. Our trip was great, and I’ll have more to say about it (or at least one part of it) later. Because I have legal work awaiting my attention, though, I can’t really write at length. I therefore just wanted to say something briefly about Obama’s “love” for country. To do so, I have to take a quick side trip to my adolescence.

I think that, objectively speaking, both my sister and I were fairly pretty when we were young. We certainly weren’t ugly, and we had all the nice middle class attributes of straight teeth, contact lenses, fairly good skin, etc., not to mention the ultimate physical attribute — youth. Both of us, however, have now and have always had incredibly low self-esteem when it comes too looks. I’ve sometimes wondered about this, because I do remember my mother always saying “I love you. You’re so beautiful.”

Today, mother reminded me of what I’d forgotten. She was at our house for a family gathering and, within very short order, while admiring my daughter’s well-put-together outfit (my daughter has an artist’s eye for clothing) and saying how much she loved my daughter, my mother also managed to criticize my daughter’s posture, her skin, and her hair. And the memories came flooding back.

What I always got from my mother was “You’re so beautiful. It doesn’t matter that you have such bad skin.” “You’ve got such lovely posture. It’s a shame about your nose, but I’m sure it can be fixed one day.” “You have such lovely eyes. Too bad about your hair.”

At the end of our childhoods, both my sister and I had a single response when we heard the phrase “You’re so beautiful”: Mother was either a fool or a liar. How could we be beautiful if our skin, or our hair, and or our noses, and anything else that Mom noticed in passing were flawed?

My mother is a narcissist, albeit a passive aggressive, basically loving one. Wife beaters are narcissists, who have abandoned the passivity in favor of the aggression. If pressed, many will say that they “love” their wives, and that part of that “love” means that they have the responsibility for fixing their wives’ never-ending lists of flaws. Put another way, the beatings or endless verbal put-downs are for the wives’ own good. The “loving” abuser is trying to make his wife a better person, whether he’s trying to improve her performance in the kitchen, the bedroom, or the workplace. The beatings will continue until morale improves — and the wife beater has very high standards to which he wants to raise the wife he “loves.”

The deal with my mother and the deal with Obama is that, being narcissists, behind the arrogance (in his case) or the charm (in her case) lies . . . nothing. And if you’re the mother, or the abusive spouse, or the president of the United States, and you know, in some deep, secret part of you, that you’re really a nothing, you better make sure nobody else sees that emptiness. The best way to maintain your greater worth is to prevent anyone close to you, anyone close to you, or any person or thing under your control, from raising themselves to a height from which they can look down on you, the narcissist, and see . . . nothing.

And that’s how Obama loves America.

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I grew up in the Bronx of the ’50s and ’60s. Playing basketball became my preferred way to misspend my youth at a relatively early age. Our small by New York standards neighborhood was both multicultural and diverse but in a Caucasian way so I didn’t really have much contact with Negroes until I began to travel about in search of competition and improvement.

Now, I realize that Eric Hoffer is not widely read these days, but I came into a copy of his something on the “Waterfront” book back then and it made some interesting points about American Negroes and kind of fit well with my tendency to quietly observe people, perhaps not from afar, with whom I’m likely to interact.

When now President Obama first arrived on the scene, the mainstream media treated me to some snippets from a campaign speech he was making, I think in South Carolina. In slipping a bit into his American Negro patois, he urged his listeners not to be “bamboozled” by his competitors. I was a bit surprised by his use of that expression and immediately thought of the aforementioned Mr. Hoffer.

You see, the Bamboozler is kind of an American Negro archetype as an individual who makes his way through the oppressive Caucasian patriarchy by his wits and with little allegiance to ethics or morality. I thought that the President’s use of the word was way too risky in a kind of way too close to home kind of way.

So, for me, the question has long been, “Who do you think bamboozlers love?”.

RaymondJelli

I’m glad Giuliani opened the discussion but we are having the wrong discussion. Its not whether Obama loves America it is what his grandfather and mother were. Granddad was a big C communist and the Obama Mama was a small c communist. They were both white so it is not a racial discussion. In fact I think Obama embraces his so called “black” side just to forget where he comes from.

He does like the power politics that his Lefty roots open up for him so even if he doesn’t like his forbears he loves their rhetoric. His mother seems to be a real piece of work. Her whole thesis was that Indonesian basket weavers didn’t make money even though they were as hard or harder working than Westerners. They were being kept down by the system. Like anyone makes money basket weaving. I’m sure Indonesian nuclear engineers do quite well. The phony straw man wrapped in fake caring is the Obama signature. It apparently took generations to perfect.

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